


To ask for more

by Mazen



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay
Genre: F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-14 14:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazen/pseuds/Mazen
Summary: All he would ask for was one kiss. She wasn't happy about that.





	1. Chapter 1

When she agreed to be his living wife, he promised that he would only ask for one last kiss and it would be on their wedding day. Then she should never have to touch him again. It didn't even have to be on the mouth. Her lips briefly on his skin would be enough.

Just to have her by his side would be enough.

Christine thought, of course, that he was joking. She wasn't afraid that he would force himself on her, but he would surely expect more than a kiss.

And when they said their I do's and she lifted his mask to kiss him on his almost non-existent lips, he cried and told her that his life was now complete. She cried with him, not because she regretted her decision, but because he said the most beautiful things.

She asked him to sing for her on their wedding night. At first he sat on a chair next to the bed in her room (she didn't expect that they would sleep in his room), but after coaxing he agreed to sit on the bed.

She crawled under the covers and reached for his hand which he reluctantly gave to her and then started to sing. His voice was calming and soon she had unwillingly drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, he was gone. Not next to her as she had expected, but in his room scribbling or playing the organ in the sitting room. 

The pattern repeated itself every night for weeks. He would come into her room and sing to her until she slept. If she didn't reach for his hand, he didn't offer it. If she didn't coax him to sit on the bed, he would sit in the chair.

One evening she asked him if he would like to change into his nightwear. He looked perplexed (at least it was her interpretation - she was learning to decipher his expressions underneath the mask by reading his body language, the tone of his voice and the shine in his amber eyes) and didn't answer her until she had asked again.

"Erik thinks it is rather impractical to dress in his nightwear when he will not be sleeping yet."

She explained that she would like to sleep together with him in the same bed as husband and wife. This made him even more perplexed and he mumbled a number of incoherent excuses to why she should not have to sleep in a bed with him. 

"Erik, when I agreed to marry you I expected that we would share a marriage bed."

She ended up falling asleep very late that evening, but he was lying next to her in the bed, wearing his nightwear and holding her hand. But when she woke up, he was, of course, gone. 

Their every day life was comfortable when they had gotten into a rutine. Especially after he had conceded to eat with her at their meals. They would have breakfast together, then she would go to rehearsal while he tinkered with his toys or composed. When she returned home, he would have dinner ready and they would do the dishes together while they talked about their day. In the evenings he would read to her while she knitted or they would sing together. 

She found that she really enjoyed Erik's calm, yet passionate company. Everything he did was with intent, something she admired. She also began to admire his gracious body and how it moved around effortlessly in their small home. She was also mesmerized with his slender fingers when he played his organ. 

Which was why she began reaching out to hold his hand when she had the opportunity. He never protested, but he hesitated before taking her hand. His hold was firm, but yielding, so she barely had to take a step away to slip out of his grip. She knew that he could do so much more.

She also started to hug him when she left in the morning and came home in the late afternoon. The physical contact made her feel closer to her and this kind seemed to relax him as well. She really wanted to give him a kiss, at least on the cheek or his forehead, but he was hesitant to move the mask. 

After three months of marriage he began to accept that she wanted him to come into her (their) bed with her and lie down beside her. Since it had become a habit she felt that he was ready for the next step, so when he lay down next to her, she would shift to move close up against him and put a hand on his chest. Sometimes he even ran his thumb over her cheek - after asking for permission.

But it was not enough. While Erik didn't expect anything more of his wife, Christine was beginning to expect more of her husband. 

One night she asked him to kiss her. 

"Ah. Erik believes it would be a horrific experience. Christine understands very well that her Erik has to lift his mask to accomplish such a task. It would be a ghastly sight to gaze upon before going to sleep. Erik does not want his Christine to have bad dreams."

She promised him that she would close her eyes, even though she wouldn't be able to see him anyway in the dark room. He probably could, so he expected that she could too.

He conceded, but to her disappointment he only kissed her on her cheek and she shared her frustration with him. In the end she got a kiss on her lips and so a new bedtime tradition began. 

Sometimes his bedtime kiss would make her stomach spin and when that happened, she would wrap her hand around the back of his head to prolong the kiss. Erik always tensed, but never pulled away. Often she would even hear a whimper escape him when they parted. 

One night she decided that she wouldn't end the kiss so soon. She would hold him close and hope that he would take his right as a husband. How she longed for him to do it. 

She still needed to ask him for a kiss, but he eagerly lifted his mask in the dark (without even asking if she had her eyes closed which she didn't) and pushed his barely-there lips to hers. She melted against him and leaned into his chest. She already had a hand behind him to stop him from pulling away. 

She moved her lips against his and felt a pleasant ache somewhere deep inside when he responded. The hand cupping the back of his head slid down his back to feel the shape of him with only the thin nightshirt between her hand and his skin.

He instantly pulled away from her lips and breathed hard for several minutes. It was obviously that he was embarrassed.

"Erik, do you find me repulsive?" She found courage to ask, but her voice was timid.

"Oh, Christine! Erik could never find one of God's most precious angels repulsive. You must not even speak as such." He answered her immediately and spoke with such a conviction that she knew he was being truthful. 

"Then do you feel sick?"

"Erik's body has always been traitorous, but with his Christine by his side he has truly never felt better. He cannot remember having felt so well, in body nor in mind." 

"Then why will you not consummate our marriage?"

This time he didn't answer immediately. Instead he lay completely still and she had to reach out to make sure that he was still there and alive. He was both alive and there. 

"Erik promised Christine that nothing more would not be expected of her. She has already given him so much." He was very quiet, clearly nervous to respond. 

"But I want more. I want... with you." She couldn't say the words, but he must've understood.

"It would be desecrating to allow such a creature to... touch Christine like a husband would."

"Erik, I do not mind your appearance. It is you who hides, not me who asks you to. I only ask that you... remember to take care of your wife. Like a husband should."

He didn't answer for some times. She felt their duvet lift and she was about to scold him for leaving when she realised that he was moving closer to her and lifted the duvet to crawl completely under it.

Cold lips touched her throat and she almost jumped because he moved so carefully that it was difficult to know where he was, even when he was right beside her. He kissed her throat, down her neck and over her clavicle. Every so often he would lick a certain place or suck at a spot of skin.

When his mouth touched a particularly sensitive spot, she gasped and lifted her hand to cup the back of his hand to hold him there. That's when she discovered that he had taken off his mask. She looked down to see him, but of course, it was too dark to see anything.

Then she felt long, bony fingers slide down between her breasts and further down over her stomach. She held her breath, but released when the hand disappeared. If he hadn't been occupying her by kissing her neck, her jaw and - oh! - nibbling her earlobe, then she would have asked him to return that hand to the place it had left bereft.

Suddenly the hand appeared again - lower. It started down by her calf and moved upwards, dragging her nightgown up with it. When it neared her inner thigh, it slowed down before coming to a halt. The action, along with his mouth, had almost made her pant. She gripped Erik's nightshirt with one hand.

"Please." It was the only word she could think of and luckily it was the right one.

The hand continued its path up her thigh until it reached her drawers. It glided slowly over the fabric and when a slender finger lightly touched the place where she felt so hot and sensitive, she bucked on the bed.

"Erik." It was barely more than a breath, but she heard a huff of air by her neck that told her that he had heard it.

The finger moved down again, this time with a little more pressure and once again touching the precise spot as before. She gasped.

The hand was at the upper part of her inner thigh again, but then something moved. A finger found the slit in her drawers and entered, running directly over the most private part of her body. This time she couldn't discern the noise that left her.

"Oh, Christine is so wet. Her clothes should not be wet. Her Erik better remove it." He hesitated, giving her a chance to protest, but she would never do that. He sat up and swiftly slid the drawers down her legs, leaving her bare to the cold air. 

He didn't return to lie next to her, but she forgot about it when a now warm hand cupped her between her thighs and the clever finger reached for the place it had found before. She moaned when it brushed lightly against the small spot and Erik hummed in response. He was studying her and there was something exciting in the thought.

His finger circled the aching spot, pressuring ever so lightly once in a while. Then it moved further down where she was wet. He hummed again, significantly more hoarse this time and suddenly she felt an otherworldly feeling of being filled. His finger was inside her and it should have felt indecent and mortifying, but it was so good and she moaned loudly and pushed to increase the strange sensation.

His finger moved in and out of her, making her sway with the intoxicating movement. She heard a shuffling and then another of his talented fingers circled the little bud with increasing pressure in tact with his other finger that continued to move in and out of her lower.

He was playing her as an instrument, something he definitely excelled at. 

Her body seemed to fly higher with every stroke and every brush and she became aware that her voice was soaring too, but instead of words, she could only express sounds. She sounded so wanton, but she couldn't find it in her to care when Erik was making her feel this way. He coaxed these sounds from her voice like he made her fly and she was so close to something large. He lifted her into a great crescendo, making her scream as her body fell over the edge.

"Oh, God! Erik!"

She soared on waves of pleasure while Erik spoke softly of how wondrous she looked and that she brought him nothing but joy. She felt him tug her under the duvet and kiss her forehead as she fell into a heavy sleep, happy, sated and loved. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments, kudos and bookmarks! It truly means a lot! 
> 
> It was supposed to only be three chapters, but it might grow to five - tops! Depends on how difficult Erik proves to be.

When her eyes finally opened again, she found herself alone in bed again. It wasn't surprising to her, but somehow she felt more vulnerable after what had happened.

Her drawers were back on and she wondered for a moment if it was all a dream. But no, she felt a little tender between her legs. It must've been real.

She wanted to thank Erik for the pleasure he had given her, but one does not talk about such things, so she decided to wait until they were back in bed that night. 

He was lying on his side facing her and she mirrored him. It was as always completely dark, but she sometimes thought that she could see a shimmer of amber looking back at her. 

"Erik, I really liked what you did last night. With me." She wasn't embarrassed about what he had done, but she felt shy. She had never talked of such things with anyone. 

"Erik wants to please his Christine. He loves her so very much and will do his best to be a good husband."

"And you are a very good husband. I would like to be a good wife too if you will let me."

He became really quiet and she got impatient. She moved closer to him, so she was flush up against him and put her hand on his chest like she had done several times before. She felt his heart beat rapidly against her hand and hoped that she wouldn't put a strain on his heart. 

"Will you kiss me?" She asked him like many times before. He lifted his mask and touched her lips briefly. Her other hand wrapped around the back of his head to prolong the contact and the beating against her hand on his chest grew wilder.

She let that hand slide slowly down his nightshirt until it had reached the lowest part of his abdomen. He had stopped kissing her. His body was tense as a bowstring while his breathing was labored. 

Before she lost her courage, she continued the path down over his night pants where she felt a hardness straining through the thin material. Her core squeezed together at the touch. How she wanted this. 

He inhaled sharply, but otherwise stayed still. Excitement overtook her and she grasped his length. He arched into her hand with a loud whimper, then pulled swiftly away from her.

She felt him rise from the bed and  movement as he paced the floor by the end of the bed. He was clearly flustered because he usually made no sound when he moved. She scolded herself for enjoying that she had made him lose control.

He mumbled to himself like she had often seen him do when something puzzled him greatly. She couldn't hear what he was saying. 

"Erik, what’s the matter?" He came to a halt and she heard him breathe in several times to speak, only to say nothing. 

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

"No! No, Christine could never do wrong. It is Erik. Her Erik is bad. So very bad."

"No, you are good. I promise you. Won't you come back to bed?" She asked and patted the spot next to her. She felt his resolve as he took a deep breath.

"Erik needs to... find something." He left the room without another word and she knew that he wasn't coming back.

She had been too forward. He wasn't ready yet, so she decided to be patient. The next week she settled with their rutine of lying in bed with him, getting a goodnight kiss before falling asleep to his soothing songs and not expecting him to be there when she woke up. 

He was apprehensive the first evening, but quickly relaxed into the rutine he knew and seemed content with it. 

Christine wasn't content. After Erik had… made her feel so sated and complete, she started to crave that feeling again. She ignored it, expecting it to disappear with time, but every day the craving grew. 

Her patience dissipated only a few days after Erik’s wondrous treatment of her and she began to snap at her colleagues if they made the smallest mistake.

But it was worse near Erik. Every touch between them brought out the craving and she would scold Erik when he had done nothing wrong. She always apologised profusely afterwards, but it was distressing to them both. 

Next came the dreams. She dreamed of his velvet voice, lifting her higher while his slender hands and talented fingers played the organ. Then the organ turned into her body and his fingers tenderly played over her throat while he sang, flicking lightly over her nipples, drumming softly over her stomach and at last between her legs where he would play her until she woke up just before crescendo. 

She would wake up with wet drawers, panting and aching. How she wanted Erik in those moments, but he wasn't there, of course, and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable again. She tried to replicate his ministrations, but it didn't feel the same and she longed for his touch.

One night where she was having a particularly vivid dream she was pulled away from the playful fingers and into her room where Erik stood by her bed with a candle in his hand, shaking her carefully. 

“Dear, poor Christine! She was screaming for her Erik and gave him such a fright. Is his Christine alright?” He looked worried as he took the sight of her. She was surely looking flustered - sweating and breathing hard. She had been so close to completion in her dream and must have screamed out loud. For him. 

“I think so.” She fell back against her pillow. He put a cold hand on her forehead and she leaned into it with a sigh. She noticed that he wasn't in his nightwear like he had been when she fell asleep. 

“Christine is very warm. Does she feel sick?” His sublime voice was tender and caring, making her want to tell him everything.

She shook her head. “Oh, Erik, I ache.” She rubbed her thighs together to achieve some relief, knowing that he couldn't see it under the covers. 

“Where? Erik will help his Christine with her pain.” He lifted the duvet from her burning body and moved the candle over her to scan for injures. She blushed. It was very sweet of him to want to help, but it was difficult to ask for the kind of help she needed. 

He seemed to notice on his own when he paused as he saw the nightgown entwined between her stirring thighs. She hurried to reach down to straighten her gown. 

“Does Christine ache… there?” His honey-coned voice turned husky and his amber eyes hooded. 

She nodded timidly, avoiding his intense gaze. Did he think her awfully wanton? 

“Erik has not performed his husbandly duties. How his Christine must suffer for his flaws!”

She was about to object to his self-deprecating words when he blew out the candle and plunged the room into darkness. He moved down to lie beside her and reached out to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand. 

“May I kiss you?” His words surprised her, so normal from his usual way of speaking and even asking her for something. She nodded and he leaned over to kiss her. 

His lips, though mostly absent, were chilled and sensual, feeding her craving. His tongue brushed over her bottom lip, making her shiver and lean further into him. He had never initiated a kiss and then never done more than touch her lips. It aroused her extremely that he was so forward all of a sudden. 

One of his hands travelled down her body, moving over the curve of her breasts until it reached her mound. His fingers pulled her nightgown up and over her drawers, all while he kept kissing her lips and jaw. 

His hand gently stroked each of her thighs, then cupped her womanhood. She trembled at his touch and whimpered when he removed his hand again.

She was aching more than ever. His mouth sucked her neck by her pulsepoint and she gasped hard. His breathing was heavy against her skin and she wanted to reach down and feel if he was aching too. But she was afraid to scare him away. 

A finger found the slit in her drawers and immediately dipped into her soaking center. The wet finger then travelled up her limps and found her sensitive bud. 

“Please, Erik.” She pleaded. She was already so close, having been pulled right to the edge after her dream. He hummed heavenly against her ear and circled her bud lightly, then pushed down gently. 

She screamed in pleasure, twisting beneath him as he kissed her lovingly. White spots danced before her eyes as the pulsing in her body passed through her. 

Suddenly he was gone and she feared that he had left her already. Until she felt her drawers being pulled down her legs and discarded next to her right leg. 

“Perhaps Christine still aches?” His voice was low and rough, coming from the end of the bed where she felt the slight weight of him on the mattress. 

“Perhaps.” She whispered, her mouth dry. She felt quite sated, but she was curious to know what he had in mind and just couldn't say no. 

“My Christine is so beautiful, a true angel to me.” How confident he sounded, she noted. What made him so different in this moment? “I want to kiss every part of her. If she allows it?” 

She nodded, now dry mouthed in anticipation. 

Two hands lifted her left foot and his mouth kissed it. Every toe was kissed, the pinkie toe nipped with his teeth, while his hands massaged the ball of her feet. It felt wonderful. Next the kisses moved up over her ankle, continuing up her leg until he reached her thigh. At that point her craving had returned swiftly. 

His hands now lifted her right foot and offered it the same tender treatment, as did he kiss up her leg. But when he reached her thigh, he didn't stop. Instead he continued that path until she felt his breath on her wet core. 

“Erik!” She exclaimed in mortification at what he was about to do, but instantly his mouth was on her. He was cold, yet his breath was hot, a strange combination that thrilled her. She keened softly. 

He licked up along her inner lips, ending at her tight nub. His tongue flicked over it before moving lower again and lapping up her wetness. 

She shivered when a cold hand sneaked up under her nightgown and chemise. His hand massaged her breasts, switching between them, so both got equal attention. Every time a calloused finger slipped over her nipples, he nipped her pleasure point and made her moan loudly. 

She was quickly spinning out of control. Her hands wrung into his sparse, thin hair as she struggled to keep still. It was however useless when she felt Erik's silver tongue settle over her bud and a finger entered her. 

“Oh, Erik!” He hummed in response and it made her quiver. 

Her moans turned louder and her vision blurred as his hands both occupied her breasts and her core while he was tonguing the most sensitive part of her body. 

She was pulled to the brink and plummeted into a vigorous spasm, calling his name repeatedly as she convulsed. When her body began to calm, she heard his soothing voice envelop her. 

“My Christine is so special. She makes her Erik so happy by allowing him this joy.”

She wanted to drag him up to her, kiss him and tell him that he made her happy, that he was special, but her limps felt so heavy and his voice was so serene. It was only a few moments before she fell into an undisturbed sleep. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

This way a new bedtime tradition was born. He would lie down next to her in the darkness of the room and kiss and caress her, worshiping her body until she reached heaven. Sometimes even two or three times in one evening. 

He grew more confident and informal in these moments, speaking almost without detaching himself. Sometimes he'd be tender and sweet while other times he would be demanding. Christine especially loved the latter. 

He began focusing on much more than just her womanhood. He seemed fond of her feet and intrigued by her bosom which was unfortunately covered. 

One evening when both his hands had crawled up her nightgown to knead her heavy and tender breasts, she felt the need for more. 

"Erik." Her voice was deeper than usual. It often was when he touched her like that. "I feel so very warm. Would you mind terribly if I removed my nightgown?" 

She heard his breath catch in his throat. Was it too much to ask for? They were married, but she wasn't sure if respectable married couples would take all their clothes off in front of each other, even in the dark. 

"I will help you." was his only reply and he took her hands to pull her up. In a fluent motion her nightgown was over her head and thrown away as an offending garment. 

"Is Christine comfortable or do you need me to remove the chemise as well?" It was obvious in his rough voice what he hoped for. 

"Please." She lifted her arms, well aware that he could see more than her in the darkness. He pulled the chemise over her head and discarded it like the nightgown. 

She lay back down and waited for him to follow her, but he didn't move. She felt his stare on her and suddenly she felt very exposed. She used her arms to cover her chest, but Erik's chilled hands pushed them away. 

"Perhaps it was a bit too cold. Let me warm you." 

She wanted to comment that his hands were cold too, but then something warm and wet touched her left breast. His mouth covered her nipple and his tongue darted out to tease it. His hand kneaded her right breast, sometimes swiping over her stiff nipple. 

He continued to lavish her breasts with adoration, making sure that each one got equal attention. His humming told her that he was appreciating it as much as she was. When his fingers around her tight bud between her thighs, it didn't take more than a few brushes before she was screaming his name. 

After that he actually started to ask her some evenings if she felt too warm and she never said no. There was something thrilling in being so bare before him. But she still wasn't sure how much he could actually see. She wanted him to see her. 

One evening where he had discarded her of all her nightwear, she asked him directly. 

"Erik, how much of me can you see? I can't see you, but your eyes are much more used to the dark." She tried not to seem nervous of his answer.

He was nibbling her throat, but he paused briefly to answer. "I can see the outline of my Christine. She is so good, so beautiful."

"Maybe we can light a candle or the gaslamp, so you can see me properly?" Her words made him pause again at her throat and he lifted his head, presumably to look at her, though she couldn't look at him. 

"Then Christine would see her Erik without his mask." His discomfort had returned and she wanted it gone. In bed she wanted her confident husband. 

"I will wear a blindfold if you would prefer it."

He didn't answer or move. He was thinking it through. All of a sudden he jumped off the bed, rummaged through her vanity drawer and then returned to her side.

"May I?" She felt him lift a silk tie to her head and she nodded. It wasn't so different from lying in complete darkness, but it felt very intimate.

When he had secured the blindfold, he turned to her night stand and she heard him turn on the gaslamp before he returned to her side. 

She heard a gasp and was about to sit up in fear that something was wrong. But a gentle hand stopped her as it ran from her shoulder and down her body with a featherlight touch. 

"You are so beautiful." It was only a whisper, but she could hear that he was deeply moved. Oh, how she longed to see him right now. 

"You are exquisite. Quite simply a goddess." His awestruck words were lovely, but she began to feel uneasy in her state of undress.

Luckily he seemed to notice and began to kiss and touch her body with renewed passion. The feeling of him against her unclad skin added to her desire. As did the appreciating sounds and words that suddenly left him. 

"So blessed. So lucky to see you, to touch you." He mumbled into her skin, inflaming her blood. 

While he normally kept a distance to her body, except for the place he was worshiping, he was now lying partly on top of her. The weight of him, even still clothed, made her yearn for much more. She arched into him as one of his clever fingers entered her and she parted her thighs to make room for his hands. 

That's when she felt it: His arousal, just at the side of her outer thigh. And he wasn't still. His hips were thrusting into the mattress, in beat with the finger inside her. He was just barely out of her body's reach.

Her inner muscles inside her clenched around his finger as she thought about his hard manhood. He was definitely aching like she was and she wanted desperately to help him like he helped her. 

But her current train of thought was completely interrupted when a second finger slowly joined the other. Oh, the fullness! Then his thumb reached up to circle her nub, all while his mouth and his other hand were doting on her bosom. 

"Erik! Yes!" She cried, so near the peak. 

"Let me see you shatter for me." He rasped with a panting velvet voice and it was all it took to send her soaring high above her physical body. 

Even in the thrones of her climax, her senses highlighted by the blindfold, she felt movement against her thigh and a distinct strangled groan from her husband. 

As her body began to calm, she heard him leave swiftly. She pulled off the blindfold to see where he had gone. She was slightly mortified to see her own naked body out in the open, so she hurried to cover herself with the duvet. 

Next to her thigh was a small wet spot. She touched the warm fluid and put her hand to her nose. It smelled like salt. Was it from him? 

Her suspicions were confirmed when Erik returned in a different pair of night pants. His mask was, of course, firmly in place again.

It suddenly felt awkward between them in the bright light, what they had done, with him in clothes and mask while she was naked under the duvet. It shouldn't have to be that way, she decided. 

She patted the side of the bed as she had done many times before and after a moment's hesitation he joined her on the bed. She didn't lift the duvet for him, but he didn't seem to expect it. She settled against his side, laying her head on his chest. 

"I love you, Erik."

"Surely not as much as Erik loves his dear Christine." 

"Will you sing me a song?" 

He reached over to turn off the gaslamp and plunged the room into darkness, then began to sing one of her favourites. It wasn't long before she fell asleep.

 - 

She woke up some time later. She was wearing her drawers and chemise again, but not her nightgown. At first she was disoriented and wondered what had caused her to wake when she heard a small noise coming from Erik's side of the bed. 

She reached over in the darkness and was surprised to feel the soft silk of his nightwear. He jumped at her touch.

"Oh, Erik woke his sweet Christine. Poor angel!" He was hoarse with tears. She scooted over to him and embraced him. He reluctantly let her. She felt him clutch something; it was her nightgown, wet with tears. 

"What's the matter? You can tell me."

"Erik is bad." His voice shook with the effort to speak without crying. "His Christine is so good, so pure. Erik wants to be a good husband to her like she deserves. But you see, her Erik takes shameful pleasure in it. Such shame. So undeserving, Erik is of his Christine."

She thought about his arousal thrusting into the mattress, the wet spot, the change of pants. Once again the muscles clenched in her core as a wave of heat hit her.

"Oh Erik, you are not bad. I want you to feel pleasure, don't you see? I even... like to think about you gaining pleasure from me."

"Christine... likes it?" He sounded incredulous, but the strain of sadness was gone, replaced with curiosity.

"I _really_ like it. Do you like to bring me pleasure?" Her face flamed at the brazen conversation, but she wanted to be able talk to him about this and she had never been bound by social norms with him. 

"Oh, I do. I really do!" He purred, making her shiver slightly. His confidence returned and she realised that it was the subject that brought it out in him. He actually felt self-assured when it came to pleasuring her. The notion was staggering and she felt heat pool in her stomach.

"I would like to be the one to bring you pleasure as well. It would make me very... satisfied." A small whimper left the back of his throat when she uttered the last word. His heart was beating faster, pounding in his chest. "Can your Christine touch you?"

She heard him swallow and he nodded hesitantly.

He was still in her arms, so she gently began stroking his back through his nightshirt where her hands already were. Slowly she moved one hand up into his spotted hair (thank God, he wasn't wearing a wig right now, though his mask was in place) while the other travelled to his chest and felt his increasing heartbeat.

"Can I kiss you?" She whispered. He didn't answer, but moved to remove his mask. She leaned in and kissed him. She smiled against his mouth when he began to kiss back. 

She kept her hands still while their lips moved together. His tongue brushed over her bottom lip like it had done before.

"I like that." She whispered against him, wanting to let him know that he was doing good. He hummed in the back of his throat and pushed his mouth further against hers. Again she felt his tongue, but this time it moved in between her lips and began to explore her mouth.

Christine had heard about kissing with tongue, of course, working at an opera house; it was impossible not to hear some of the things that the ballet rats were talking about. But she hadn't dared to try it in fear that she would do something wrong.

What Erik was doing was intoxicating and she moaned against him which spurred him on.

She tried to remind herself that it was in fact her who was supposed to bring him gratification, so she attempted to mirror his movements. Their tongues began a sensual dance and oh, how it took her breath away. He groaned - that one sound setting her on fire.

She unbuttoned his nightshirt just enough to slip a hand in and feel his bare chest. He twitched at her warm hands on his cold skin, but soon relaxed.

He kissed down her jaw to her neck and brought his hands up to knead her breasts which was distracting, but at least she didn't have to focus too much on kissing with tongue. However she would definitely explore that again later. 

He was thin - this she already knew - but it was different to feel it so directly. Some patches of skin were rough and at first she thought that more of him was deformed, but then she realised that it was scars. Her poor Erik! She had only heard fragments of his life, but she knew it was terrible. Had he ever felt a gentle hand before? 

She continued to feel his bare chest, though it was straining the buttons on his shirt. Her thumb grazed one of his nipples and he moaned into her neck. She did it again on purpose and felt his hips thrust against her thigh. Even in the brief moment she felt him, she knew that he was hard and straining, aching for touch.

He pulled himself away from her, nearly tumbling over the side of the bed. 

"Erik, it's okay. I want this. Let me." She pleaded him and tugged at his nightshirt, beckoning him closer. He moved back to her in apprehension. "Let me touch you." She leaned in and whispered against his ear.

"Would it please Christine?" He asked timidly.

"Yes, very much." She felt him nod and decided that he was agreeing. She kissed the skin under his ear and down his neck. His face, besides his mouth, was probably out of limits, so she stayed away from it.

She sucked lightly at his pulse on his neck, tasting his salty skin with a hint of lemon and pure Erik. It was incredibly arousing. 

While she kissed and licked him, her hand travelled down to his pants. She held back when he began to tense and focused on kissing him while lightly tracing his waistband. She longed to put her hand on him. 

"Let me touch you." She repeated when he relaxed and he nodded carefully again.

She slipped her hand underneath the waistband and was frustrated to feel his drawers. So many barriers!

But then she felt him. The waistband of his drawers was raised by something straining the fabric. Her index finger traced the band from one hip to the other, but in the middle it was stopped by the soft skin on his firm manhood.

He bucked against her as she touched him directly, now panting rapidly. She thought about his poor heart momentarily, but then he pushed against her hand.

"Please. Again." He rasped in a low voice. How exhilarating it was to excite him in such a way! Her finger grazed the top of his manhood again, feeling a slight wetness. He growled. 

The arm around her twisted the silk of her chemise. He was fighting to restrain himself and it was a heady thought. 

She reached into his drawers with her whole hand and finally felt all of him. Almost. He was too big for her hand, but she could feel how big. His skin was so soft, yet beneath it he was hard as steel. She squeezed to test how hard and once again he bucked, rubbing himself into her hand. 

"Christ! Christine!" His words were somewhere between a moan and a plea. She longed to see him in the light, if he looked as high strung and aroused as he sounded. She wanted to see his manhood in her hand. 

She wrapped her small fingers around him and tried to create a movement that would please him. She didn't know how. This was one of those things she had shied away from when the other girls talked about it. Too raunchy for her. 

All of a sudden a large hand joined her beneath his drawers. He put his hand on top of hers, wrapping his fingers around his length on top of her own fingers. Then he started to slowly move their hands up and down his arousal, holding him firmly. Little whimpers left his mouth, but Christine was completely enthralled by the touch of him. 

When she had found the rhythm, he removed his hand and let her control the movements. She let a finger run over the top again to feel the moisture and he arched into her hand with a loud groan. 

She was breathing, incredibly wet between her legs, but this was for him. She moved her hand a little faster and squeezed him. He swelled against her hand. 

"Ah, Christine, mercy!"

He snapped his hips rapidly upwards a few times, moving with her hand, then moaned loudly as he stilled. Something warm and sticky coated the inside of his drawers, along with her hand. Then his manhood started to slacken and tension seemed to leave his body entirely.

That was the simple most arousing experience of her life. Her core was throbbing painfully, but she didn't really care because she had brought him pleasure. And it was magnificent. 

Suddenly he scrambled away from her, her sticky hand slipping out of his pants. He mumbled apologies as he ran into her bathroom. Moments later he returned with a wet cloth and started to clean her hand. 

"Erik has corrupted Christine. She is so good to him, his Christine, but he cannot be good." He was talking frantically and he rubbed a bit too hard on her hand. She stilled him. 

"You have done nothing wrong. I liked this.  _Really_ liked it." She emphasized like she had before. "I hope you'll let me do it again." He swallowed hard. 

"Erik did good?" He sounded so vulnerable, yet hopeful and it broke her heart. 

"So very good. Will you lie down with me again?" She patted the bed like always because it worked. He nodded, but didn't say a word as he left the room. A few minutes later she heard him return. He had probably changed his pants, she realised. 

She lifted the duvet, ignoring that she was only in her drawers and chemise, and he settled down next to her. He felt so warm, very different from his normal temperature, and she snuggled up against him. 

"I love you, Erik. Thank you for letting me please you." 

A sob escaped him and suddenly he was crying into her nearly uncovered chest. It didn't matter though. She held him as he cried, stroking the back of his head and whispering soothing words. After a while he calmed down and moments later he was asleep in her arms. 

It was the first time she saw him sleep and Christine let herself drift off, feeling closer to her husband than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erik has no idea what he's doing with the whole french kissing, but luckily for him neither does Christine.
> 
> Is she a little too pushy perhaps?


	4. Chapter 4

When she woke up the next day, he was gone, but she knew that he had been there and that he had slept beside her. And at first it seemed that this wouldn't change their daily rutine like none of the other things had. He made her breakfast, they ate and then she got ready for going upstairs. 

But when she hugged him goodbye, he lifted his mask and kissed her forehead. She was so stunned by this that she just left by habit, cursing herself the rest of the day that she didn't ask for a kiss on the lips. 

When she got home and hugged him, she was ready for it and looked up at him just as he was about to kiss her head. The lifted mask blocked his sight, so he was very surprised when he felt lips instead of skin and hurried to scramble out of her arms and apologise. 

However those kisses became a part of their rutine too, to such an extent that Christine suggested that he might just as well forego masks that covered his mouth since he already was lifting it at each meal and now when they kissed. 

He started to object to such a notion until she pointed out that she would actually prefer it if he didn't wear a mask at all. Then he went straight to his chamber and removed the mouth piece from two of his daily masks, much to her satisfaction.

Now she could even see if he smiled or at least attempted at it. Most of his emotions were in his eyes anyway, but sometimes they were hidden too well away in their eye sockets, not even counting the distance of being behind the mask. So she was glad to see his mouth and mostly being able to kiss him freely. Which she began to do quite often.

They were happy. Every day she felt a deeper connection with him that went beyond their love for music. She started to feel like she was breathing as much for him as for the music they shared. 

He developed too, willingly sharing bits and pieces of his past, telling her about a new invention he had in mind and visiting her upstairs at a normal rehearsal - without the mouth piece of his mask. He even kissed her passionately in Box 5 one day and Madame Giry told her that she had spoken with him without a wall blocking the view of him. 

He was eating and now sleeping regularly which might have a lot to do with it. But she loved the changes she saw in him. She hadn't expected to change him, so it made the whole thing more surprising to her. But he seemed happier and at ease which was most important to her. 

In the day they would sing, talk, innocently touch and kiss, but in the night they would indulge in each other's bodies. They would deepen their kisses and he would bring her pleasure and never deny her the chance to return it. But it would always be in the dark. 

One night she suggested that he blindfolded her again, so he could turn on the light. He rushed to find the silk blindfold and in a mere minute she found herself bare to him, except for the tie that now covered her eyes.

His mouth attacked her uncovered skin with his icy lips and hot breath and she arched into him. He seemed to become more vocal when he could see her which she really liked. However she wanted to ask him for more. 

"Erik, can I touch you too? While you touch me..." 

"Why does Christine want that? Will it not disturb you?" He paused to speak, but otherwise continued to worship every patch of bare skin on her. She gasped as she felt his tongue at the apex of her thighs. He was teasing her, not focusing too much on her request. Good. 

"I want to touch you while you touch me because when I bring you pleasure, it makes me ache." She blushed a bit as she explained it in the simplest terms. But the truth was that she was always throbbing, drenched in her drawers whenever she was pleasuring him with her hand. It would be exciting to do it together. 

She heard a small choke by her hip where his face was, then felt him crawl up along her side to lie down beside her. His arousal flush up against the side of her thigh fueled her desire and she squeezed her legs together. He hummed. He must've noticed. 

He leaned up and kissed her gently while a hand began to knead her left breast, brushing the nipple lightly before twisting it. Her body tensed as it relished the mixture of pain and pleasure and right then he pushed his erection against her, moaning softly in her ear. It set her on fire and she took it as an invitation.

Her right hand reached into his night pants, then his drawers where she found him warm and ready for her touch. His own hand travelled down to where she was sopping, even wetter after she had felt him. A finger entered her the moment she wrapped her fingers around his length. They moaned at the same time.

Slowly but steadily he started to move his finger inside of her, growling in his throat when she stroked him in the same rhythm. He added another finger inside her and she reacted by gripping him harder, making him thrust into her hand. It was incredibly arousing and even without touching her blooming bud, she was reaching the precipice in a fast pace. Was this what it would be like when they finally joined at last? 

She felt him lower his gaze, no doubt gazing at their moving hands, humming roughly. She longed to see the sight too. She could just reach up and remove the blindfold, but she didn't want to break his trust. That would basically be unmasking him again, perhaps even worse because his private area was also bared. She would wait until he was ready. 

"Oh, Christine, your hands are the blazing touch of the sun." His hoarse voice carried a melody as if he was beginning a new composition. Perhaps he was, at least with her body as instrument. 

His fingers curled inside of her and she screamed when he reached a pleasurable spot, nearly falling over the edge. Her grasp had grown firmer while her rhythm on his manhood had faltered, but Erik moved on his own record, thrusting into her tight palm, the tip of him hitting her thigh. All while his fingers followed the same pulsing pace in her core. 

"Ah, Christine, my wondrous Christine." His words and movements kept her tethered to the edge, but it was when she felt him swell and spur hot desire on her thigh with her name on his lips, that her pleasure peaked and surged up her spine to overtake her entire being.

Afterwards he hurried to clean her up, covered himself with mask and her with a duvet before he removed her blindfold. She felt utterly spent, but when his nervous and loving eyes met her as her vision was unblocked, it was impossible for her not to lean forward and kiss him passionately. 

"I want to feel your body on mine." She whispered as she looked into those golden eyes that widened at her words. She turned to her side and tugged him down beside her to show him that it didn't have to be now. But soon. She wanted nothing more to feel his manhood on her and in her. Propriety be dammed. 

- 

She didn't make any new requests of him in the week after. Instead she enjoyed that he began to seek out her touch and that they often fell asleep together. Sometimes she would be naked under the duvet and he would join her under the cover, though in his nightwear. 

But she did intend to go further with him and soon. 

Then came the night where he fell asleep in the dark without his mask.

After Erik had brought her to completion with his skilled mouth, she pushed him onto the mattress to take care of him and he didn't object like she expected him to.

So she unbuttoned his nightshirt and kissed his exposed skin where ever she could, avoiding his face because he usually didn't want her to touch it. She used her hands to guide her until she reached his night pants. 

He muttered her name in confusion when her kisses on his torso neared her hands, but when he didn't stop her, she continued.

She pulled his arousal out of his pants and drawers and let both her hands glide over it in exploration. While she couldn't see anything, she had gotten pretty familiar with the shape and what he seemed to like. Now she wondered if he would stop her if she tasted him.

She knew that he could see the outline of her in the dark, but had no way of knowing if he was looking at her or not. She would just have to risk it. 

She wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke him in the way he liked. Her thumb brushed over the tip to feel the drip and he moaned. Then in a quick movement she aimed for the place her hand was and let her tongue dart out to taste the tip. He choked on a breath.

Enjoying his reaction she hurried to take his length in her mouth and feel the hard rod covered in soft skin, a vein throbbing against her tongue. It was a strange sensation to have her mouth filled, but not unpleasant. It was quite intimate. 

Right then Erik gripped her hair desperately, holding her still for a moment while whining in the back of his throat. He was struggling to keep control, she realised.

Suddenly his hips started bucking wildly as he cried out her name.

"Christine, ah, I can't s... Forgive me!" His manhood was thrust roughly in and out of her mouth a few times before she felt him swell and he yelled in abandon as he spurted his desire into her mouth. She swallowed on instinct, a little surprised at the sharp salty taste.

But she didn't have time to think about it because Erik started to cry, hurdling up in a tiny ball on the bed. She hurried to move up and cradle him in her arms. He struggled to hide his flaccid manhood away in the awkward position, then tried to leave her embrace, but she wouldn't let him. He had nothing to be ashamed of. 

"Erik has tainted his Christine. He is an awful creature, he must be punished. Oh, Christine... " He sobbed, the struggle leaving him and making way for his despair. She knew it well.

"Erik, I'm the one who's awful. I did something without asking you and it was too much for you. I wanted to try it, but I should've asked you first. I'm sorry, Erik. Can you forgive me?" 

His sobs continued. "Christine must never apologise. She is good and pure and cannot be at fault for her Erik's gruesome actions."

Christine did her best to comfort him, but none of her words helped. So she sang to him instead until he quieted. That's when she discovered that he had fallen asleep on her naked breast without his mask. 

After she had acted so carelessly, he still trusted her enough to fall asleep on her without his mask.

No, that wasn't true. She had caused him so much distress that he had fallen asleep after crying himself into utter exhaustion and thereby forgetting to put on his mask.

No matter how much she had enjoyed the loss of control he'd had when she had used her mouth on him, it had been wrong for her to put him in such a position.

She knew that he hadn't had a normal upbringing and touch - any kind of touch - was different for him than for others. Even her hugs and kisses seemed to overwhelm him, despite how often he reached out for them himself. 

He also tried his best to act like a gentleman and seemed to live in fear of overstepping his boundaries and being too forward with her, but instead it was her who was overstepping his boundaries.

Because he had seemed to like many of the things she had pushed him to do, she hadn't comprehended how wrong it was and how uncomfortable it must be to him in those situations.

That's when she realised what she had to do. She had to stop pushing him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long chapter because it wanted to be.

She stopped doing anything new. She actually let him control all their intimate encounters, including kisses and hugs in the day.

Luckily it seemed that he liked them as much as she did because he reached out to embrace her and leaned down to kiss her as often as she had done before.

She was never passive, but waited for a cue from him to see if he wanted it. 

He began to seem perplexed by her lack of initiative. When they were in bed, he sometimes hesitated like he was expecting or perhaps fearing that she would do something new. She wondered if she should talk to him about it.

But their lives were in no way unsatisfying or unfulfilling.

They now slept every night together in the same bed and though he was never there when she woke up, she knew by the jumbled sheets beside her and the faint stain of drool on his pillow that he had slept.

Sleeping and eating regularly seemed to improve his mood and she even discovered his delightful, yet sarcastic humour which she loved after she had come to understand it.

And he was a master at puns. Though sometimes they were a bit too silly. One day she came home with a fresh tuna from the market to which he commented: "I see that the piano tuna is here". But she still laughed because it was so stupidly funny. And she saw his mouth twitch when he made her laugh. 

He had been composing, preparing a new opera and he played the new music for her, asking about her impression of it. It was nice to feel that he appreciated her opinions and he actually incorporated some of the ideas she came up with.

Soon they sat together at his organ and composed several songs together. While she wasn't skilled as him in adding a composition score for a whole orchestra, she was good at leading the melody where it was supposed to go - as Erik said. In any case she felt like an equal with him there.

She wanted that with him in all aspects of their life as a couple.

It had already changed a lot since they got married where he had seen her as superior, despite the fact that she was a woman, which was considered to be less than a man. Even as a multi talented genius he had felt inferior to her, something she hadn't been able to comprehend.

But since he had grown confident in their intimate moments, he had stopped kissing the hem of her dress every other day and almost never got on his knees, crying for forgiveness for every small thing she said to him. It was beginning to seem like a real marriage in so many ways. 

But she still wanted to consummate their marriage. She just didn't know how without pushing him again. 

Their rutine changed after the premiere of Romeo and Juliet. Christine came home late every night and was often exhausted after a day's performance. On weekends they had two performances a day. She only had a few days a week to rest and spend time with Erik. 

She missed him. They used to talk and play for hours, but at the moment they had barely time to dine together. Luckily this opera only ran half a season because M. Firmin and M. André had sold the Opera Populaire to someone. That halted the production and honestly they all feared for their jobs. 

But Christine knew that she would always have Erik and she suspected that the Opera Ghost wouldn't remain dormant if the new manager began to fire the cast and crew that Erik actually liked. 

The whole thing was just another reason why the current opera was putting a strain on her. She was worried about the changes that would occur. 

Their time for intimacy had also greatly diminished. While Erik didn't seem to be bothered by it, Christine definitely was. She had gotten used to having her needs met every evening, but now it was only a few times a week. Erik still came to their bed and slept with her, but was always good at sensing when she was too tired to... enjoy his skills. But the lack of release made her cranky. 

The second Saturday after the premiere of Romeo and Juliet, she had just finished the matinee when she heard him calling her from the walls. She was sitting in her old dressing room, the one she had insisted on keeping, trying to calm down after the atrocious performance she had just put on. The audience seemed satisfied which was great, but she was disappointed with her acting. It had been awful and mechanical.

"Christine..." His voice sang and she walked over to lock the door. It was probably best that no one walked into her dressing room and heard her being scolded by a dark man in a mask. Because she was sure that was why he was here: To reprimand her for her terrible performance. 

The mirror slid open and Erik stepped into the room with his normal grace and his intense presence. He was wearing a mask that covered all his face, but lifted it to kiss her lips. 

"I know why you're here." She said wearily, looking down. 

"Oh?" 

"I know you must've seen how awful I performed."

"I saw how frustrated my Christine was." His gentle words piped her interest and she lifted her head to see his hooded eyes behind the mask. 

"I think my Christine needs to relax." His voice was smooth and mesmerizing as he moved forward and she walked backwards until her knees hit the small couch. 

"Lie down." He implored her and she followed his lead willingly, stretching out on the couch that could hold her small frame. She was excited to see where this would go. He had never done anything like this in her dressing room.

He reached for the gas lamp on the small table behind the couch and the room was plunged into darkness. It almost seemed like all sound was removed from the room too. Outside she could faintly hear the cast running down the hall, but mostly she could hear her own pulse, beating in anticipation. 

Suddenly she felt his breath by her ear, tickling softly. He was kneeling next to the couch. He kissed her adoringly, worshiping her mouth in a way they'd scarcely had the time for these past weeks. She was instantly aroused. 

Slowly his long, musician fingers opened her dressing gown and she remembered that she was only wearing her undergarments. He seemed to approve, humming while he kissed her deeply. 

He expertly removed the corset by the fastenings on the front, but left the chemise and her drawers on to her surprise. His fingers began to tease her breasts through the silk of her chemise, making her gasp several times.

She lost focus on their kiss and he noticed. Instead he began moving down her throat, his tongue licking with a light pressure that reminded her of how his tongue felt on the bud between her thighs that were throbbing in longing for more. But Erik was taking his time and she was grateful for that. They hadn't had enough time lately. 

His mouth ended by her right breast and he teased her nipple through the silk, wetting the material. Then he blew on the wet spot, cooling it and it felt icy on her nipple. She shivered at the odd sensation. 

He moved over to her left breast, but it was pretty obvious that it was a difficult task from his position on the floor. 

Like a stalking cat he crawled up on the couch and over her, letting his legs rest on her own while he held most of his weight off her torso. It felt incredible to have him on too of her, like he was engulfing her entire being.

He waited for an objection to the position, but none would come. Instead she slid her hands over his cravat to untie it swiftly, allowing her access to unbutton his clothing. 

His mouth drove down to cover her nipple through the silk, sometimes biting lightly which made her whine as the slight pain spiked her pleasure. 

She felt him stiff in his trousers down by her knees, the couch not allowing much room for him to align with her. But she parted her knees, aching for his arousal to touch her. 

Without thinking she took his face in her hands to pull him up into a kiss and perhaps align him better with her core. But she had forgotten that he had taken off his mask and when she cradled his face and pulled it to her mouth, it was bare. 

She had promised herself that she wouldn't push him and yet she had inadvertently done it. 

She knew that he didn't want her touching his face, but the damage was done. His breath had hitched and she had to move quickly to defuse this bomb that was her self-conscious husband. 

She kissed one of his mangled cheeks while her thumb ran over the other. The skin was sagging, but soft and she felt no disgust as her lips caressed his skin, moving over his hollowed eyelids, his forehead and to the other cheek. 

He was completely still in her hands and seemed to have stopped breathing. When she kissed his other cheek, she tasted his tears. Her hands went into his sparse, soft hair when her lips reached his mouth. This was it: Would he run away after her unintentional touching? 

She kissed his extremely thin lips that she loved and felt him respond instantly. He overtook the kiss, pouring every emotion he felt into her and she received it in joy and relief. His hands took hers from his scalp and led them back to his face; he wanted her touch. It was amazing that he had let her, but even more so that he wanted her to. 

She leaned more into the kiss, fighting his conflicting emotions with the love she felt for him while she nuzzled his deformed face. She loved all of him, especially his face that made him who he was. 

Almost all of his body weight was on her and it spurred her on. Quickly his manhood began to thicken again, now by her upper thigh. She moved a bit and parted her legs, allowing his clothed hardness to push into her drawers, briefly touching her hidden pleasure point. 

They moaned in union and he pulled away, as if to study her. He drew his hips back a little, then pushed down on her again; this time hitting her sensitive bud. 

"Erik!" She cried out in pleasure. The feeling of him hard against her soft folds was unlike any other and she only vaguely heard his breath getting caught in his throat. 

She pulled his mouth down to hers again and thrust her hips up to encourage him to keep going. He did and every time his hips came down to hers and she felt him rubbing firmly again her, she moaned into him and he hummed in return.

Their kisses grew more desperate and the same did their movements. His hips almost didn't lift from her anymore, but instead he began grinding against her nub. 

"Erik, dont stop." She gasped as his frantic grinding was making her reach crescendo in a fast pace. She held onto his soft face, enjoying the closeness it provided, even amidst their passion.

All of a sudden a faint light lit behind her; Erik's arm hovering over her for a moment before returning to her shoulder, gripping her steadily. She looked into his hidden golden eyes. He had tears in his eyes, but they were filled with bewilderment, gratitude and love. Along with desire. She barely looked at his face and honestly, she had seen it before. She just hoped that her eyes conveyed what she felt: Accept, love and pure unadulterated lust. 

"I love you." She said loudly, her voice breathy from the building pressure between her legs. She was so close. 

He groaned and kissed her once more in a fire of passion. A hand moved over her left breast and pitched her nipple through the cold wet silk. 

She cried out, swiftly wrapping her legs around Erik's waist to keep him there. He was panting and the new position let him touch her closer to the place where he would one day penetrate her. 

"Ah, Christine! Give into me!" He growled and the sound sent her over the edge, pleasure spiraling through her body. He ground his arousal frantically against her core, prolonging her climax and letting himself go in the thrones of passion.

She finally saw his face as he died the little death. His mouth was open in a small O while his eyes was hazed, but filled with pleasure and wonderment.

Afterwards they just lay there, his weight on her and his face in her hands. She wouldn't let go, not yet when she felt so close to him and he didn't object. 

"Thank you." He whispered so low that she barely heard it.

"No, thank you." She replied. "This was perfect."

 

He came to her dressing room several times after that, quickly dispersing the excuse of a poor performance because his visits had quickly restored her abilities. Often he would caress her with his hands or his mouth, but sometimes he would lie down on top of her, wrapping her in his body and let them both die Le Petite Mort.

The best part, however, was when he let her see him without his mask. It meant more to her than he could ever understand, but he was beginning to.

 

It made the next two months pass by quickly and soon she found herself at curtain call for the last performance of the season. It had been a success, but now the employees found themselves unsure of what was to come. 

After curtain call Christine hurried to disperse of the costume and the heavy stage makeup. She only left on her chemise and drawers, then covered up in a dressing gown and slippers before leaving through the mirror. 

Erik had told her that he had a surprise for her and she couldn't wait to see. After the long, but familiar trip down to their house, she found him at the organ. She knew that he had seen her performance like he always did, but he would always leave the moment the curtain came down to avoid being seen. 

When she entered, he finished the melody he was playing as if he had timed it perfectly to her arrival. He turned around with a beautiful thornless red rose in his hand, gracefully rising from the bench and walking over to her before she reached him. She took the offered rose and got a gentle kiss.

"You were, as always, perfect. Are you ready for your surprise?" She nodded eagerly.

He walked over to the library wall, as she called it, and pulled out a thick binder. For a moment she held her breath as she remembered the way he had delivered the Don Juan Triumphant score as The Red Death. He took the rose from her hand and handed the binder to her, eyeing her carefully. "Seeds of Light - the myth of Hades and Persephone" it said on the cover.

"Your opera?" She traced the golden words that he had somehow engraved on the leather binder.

"It's finished. It's for you. You helped create it after all in more ways than you know."

"Thank you. I cannot wait to hear it." She whispered in astonishment as she opened it to the first page. She recognised the overture, but then came an aria she hadn't heard before. _'Hades' lament'_   it said. As she read through it, listening to the lyrics along with the music in her head, she realised that this reminded her of Erik. Sad, yet beautiful with haunting words about a hollow existence. 

The aria was interrupted by a light melody of a violin, a melody she remembered having played with him. It was followed by Persephone humming, much like Christine had done when he had played the melody on the organ. That was when she understood the true meaning of this opera: It was about them.

She turned to Erik with tears in her eyes. "You made an opera about us?" He nodded hesitantly and she carefully put the binder on a table before engulfing her husband in a kiss. "I love you so much. Thank you!" 

She kissed him again and he wrapped his long arms around her and responded fervently, groaning when he felt her hands move under his wig.

Suddenly he drew back, threw her rose that he was still holding on the binder on the table, then reached down to lift her into a bridal carry. He resumed their kiss as he led her into their bedroom (not her bedroom anymore) and disposed her on the bed. He swiftly removed his cravat, his tailcoat and vest before joining her on the bed.

The only light in the room was a candle on her vanity, but it was enough. Her hands moved to the mask and he nodded, then closed his eyes when she took it off with the wig and placed both items on the nightstand. When he opened his eyes again, it was with tears in them like it often was, but she kissed them away before claiming his mouth again.

His hands moved over her body, easily parting the dressing gown to gain access to her undergarments. He hummed when he felt how little she was wearing, huffing lightly when his hand moved over her hip to grip her bottom. She arched into him, moaning.

Her fingers began to unbutton his shirt in a fast pace and to her surprise he allowed her to push it off his shoulders without blowing out the candle. Instead he made her sit up, so he could pull the chemise over her head, then pushed her back to kiss her again while his fingers toyed with her breasts.

His bare stomach rested on hers, a wonderful feeling of his skin on hers, even though she could feel every single one of his ribs. He was straining in his trousers and she longed to be completely bare with him.

When she felt like they were both relaxed enough, she reached down to open his belt and unbutton his trousers. It was without a complaint from her husband. He had moved down to kiss her neck, sucking on her pulsepoint.

She looked down over his bare back, her nails gently raking over the many scars his skin carried. He moaned and pulled away. She feared that she had done something wrong until she saw his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, filled with lust. Heat filled her body. 

"I want to feel you, Christine." He said in a raspy voice that set her on fire while his long fingers grazed her drawers. "How I yearn to feel every part of you."

"Yes, Erik. I want that, too." She breathed and lifted her hips, so he could pull her drawers off her. She was now completely naked, but she didn't feel exposed as his eyes swept over her body. She felt wanted, more than ever. 

She let her own eyes roam his lithe body. He was so very thin, bones sticking out everywhere. But she knew when she touched him that he had gained weight in these past months.

Despite his skeleton frame she didn't feel an ounce of revulsion. She wanted him. In this body with this face. It was all of him she wanted.

Slowly he rose from the bed and pushed down his trousers, leaving him only in drawers with his arousal begging to be released. He paused, unsure if he was ready. She saw the silent plead in his eyes and sat up to help him. 

Unhurried she pushed his drawers down over his hips while looking into his eyes, letting the last barrier fall to the floor. His manhood was just in front of her face, but she was certain that he would prefer that she didn't look directly, so she kept eye contact. She took his hands and pulled him down to the bed with her.

He watched her intently as he lay down on her, carefully placing himself flush against her. She parted her legs to make room for him, her breath hitching when she felt him bare between her thighs. But he didn't move to her opening. 

While his weight on her was beginning to feel familiar, the feeling of his cold skin on her warm body made it completely different and she shivered deliciously. Her body was humming in anticipation, very aware of how close he was to her. 

He kissed her chastely and when he pulled back, she noticed his tears. She wiped them away with her thumbs, cradling his face in her hands. 

"Are you okay? We don't have to..." She whispered, but he halted her words with a bony finger on her lips. 

"I want this. I just... I never thought I would have this. Any of this. A real life. You. It is... I love you more than life itself. That you are willing to let me-"

She interrupted him with a kiss, pouring her love, admiration and desire into it. How lucky she felt to be here with this kind, sweet genius who somehow loved her completely with all her flaws. She pulled back breathless. 

"I want this, too. I love everything that is you." His eyes glistened in the candle light and her own felt wet too, so she closed them and kissed him again. Their tongues danced together before moving onto other surfaces, licking and sucking where ever they could reach. 

Then she felt a broad hand reach between them. It lightly brushed over her little hard bud, well aware where it was and how it made her whimper, then lower to where she was soaking. The hand left her and a moment later she felt the tip of his manhood. Her inner muscles clenched as she felt a new wave of arousal hit her. 

"Christ! Christine!" He moaned. He must've felt her clench. 

His hand moved away and his eyes found hers again. Slowly he began to push into her core, stretching her in an almost unnatural way. She wanted to close her eyes as pain spiked through her, but it left quickly again, giving way to a different kind of pleasure than any she had felt before. 

He pushed all the way to the hilt, breathing heavily. He looked as overwhelmed as she felt. He was everywhere - in her, on her, against her - flooding her senses. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and felt how he trembled against her. 

He began to move, pulling almost all the way out of her before pushing back in, eliciting a moan from both of them. The feeling of it was indescribable. She felt complete. 

The second time he pulled out of her, it all went faster and by the third time he pounded into her frantically, gasping her name as he started to thrust uncontrollably until he stilled inside her and jerked, gripping her hips roughly and crying out in abandon.

She felt him empty himself deep in her and in the back of her mind she wondered if she would become pregnant. They had never talked about that. 

He pulled out rapidly, shuddering and suddenly crying. 

"Oh, Christine! Erik's... I am sorry, I could not stop. You were too warm, too soft." He kissed her neck repeatedly as he spoke. Her heart warmed. 

"Erik, it's okay. I know how different it feels, I feel it too. We have time." She pulled his face to her and willed him to believe her. 

He looked at her with tearful eyes. Then she saw the moment where his train of thought changed from pity to intent. 

"Luckily I can still please you." He purred and lowered his body back on hers, kissing her throat while his fingers travelled over her body. Her body instantly began to react and she gave herself over to the sensations he created, ignoring the odd feeling of fluids dripping from her down below. 

He teased her breasts that felt heavy with desire, biting and twisting her nipples until she cried out. A hand ran over her stomach, moving further down to brush over the little tight bud. He circled it until she was panting, then pushed gently down on it until she screamed his name in ecstasy. 

When she came back from her climax, he was still on top of her, watching her with loving eyes. She smiled at him, though she must've looked more love-drunk than loving. 

"Perhaps we can try again?" He mumbled and she didn't understand what he meant until he pushed his hips down on hers and she felt him hard again. She instantly parted her thighs completely, arousal rushing through her once more. 

"Oh... Yes." She rasped and it was only a moment before he filled her again. 

 

_Three months later_

Christine sat down in front of her mirror in fatigue and elation. The premiere had been a huge success. She could still hear the audience chattering in excitement after curtain call; her old dressing room was that close to the auditorium.

Soon she would have to go out and meet the press and the patrons, one of the drawbacks of having a manager who was never present. She didn't think any of the cast had met him.

It was her 1st year anniversary with Erik and she would really prefer celebrating it with him, but he had insisted that the premiere was more important.

And it truly was important. It was Erik's own opera, Seeds of Light. It was easy to see the similarities between the myth of Hades and Persephone and their own relationship, though without the elements of assault in the myth. He kept the story to resemble their own and the music had been written from the time he had met her until he finished it three months ago.

She wasn't sure how he had gotten it approved to be performed so quickly, but it didn't matter much. Her husband had his ways and she hadn't heard any new rumors of the Opera Ghost, so it couldn't be too bad. 

The opera was beautiful, yet their tenor Étienne didn't have the same intensity nor the eclectic voice she imagined Hades would have. Like Erik had. But the audience didn't know that and they had been impressed. 

She looked at the beautiful bouquet Raoul had sent her. She knew that he had been here, but apparently he thought it best not to approach her and she truly appreciated that. She didn't miss him that much, not anymore. The sense of normalcy he had brought her, she now found elsewhere. 

She hurried to change from her costume to an evening gown. It was a sleeveless gown in emerald green with silver beads covering her torso in a flowery pattern, a dress Erik had bought for her when the production on his opera began.

"You are the embodiment of Persephone." He had whispered in her ear under the first rehearsal, seemingly not there and yet, he was. 

She sat down at her vanity in her new gown and began removing the heavy theater makeup. When she started unpinning her curls, she heard his velvet voice in the air. 

"Christine..." Just a whisper that seemed to come from every wall in the room. She hurried over to lock the door, then walked to the mirror and awaited it to open and see her husband appear.

He was dressed as finely as ever. However he wore no mask and no wig, not hiding from her anymore. Even when he ventured into the upper world, he wouldn't hide. 

"My dear wife, Erik fears that he will never see you again after you have stolen the hearts of Paris." He smiled adoringly and stepped into the room. 

" _'My master, my love, surely you must k_ _now,  
__even the brightest stars can't keep me here where you cannot go.'_ "

She sang from the opera, where Persephone vows to return to Hades again, a line she had contributed to. She kissed him chastely on those lips that couldn't be seen, only felt. 

"My Christine is so beautiful, such a perfect flower. In fact..." He reached inside his tailcoat and pulled out a rose. Then another and another. It was a long string of roses. "I do believe you deserve more flowers than your hands can carry."

He turned her around to face the vanity and with ease pulled out the pins in her hair until her long curls bounced everywhere. He gathered it at her nape, then took the string of roses from her hands and draped it around her hair to hold it there. It looked perfect with her dress and the idea of her as Persephone. Her husband thought of everything. 

He hummed and leaned over her small frame until she had to bend at the waist. He pushed her hair to the side and kissed a path from her ear to her shoulder while holding her gaze in the vanity mirror. Her body reacted immediately. 

He pulled at her hair, exposing her throat to him which he began to caress with his slender fingers. His other hand moved down to gather her skirts, pushing her drawers to the floor and gaining access to the apex between her legs. 

"I want you to feel me the rest of the night." He sighed into her ear and she let out a shuddering breath. She already felt him everywhere, but she knew what he meant. He enjoyed it when she was out in public with his seed in her. If he only knew...

He pushed his manhood against her bottom, letting her feel how hard he was for her. 

A finger found her wet opening, then slid up to rub her roughly as he had discovered she sometimes liked. He was very good at knowing when she was in the mood for it. She bit her lip to stop the moans that were threatening to escape her. Hundreds of people would be hearing her. 

"Let's see how quiet Christine can be." He chuckled deep by her ear. Suddenly his hands were gone and she heard the familiar sound of his belt buckle and trousers hitting the floor. But instead of leading her down on the couch, he gripped her hips with both hands and pulled her back onto his waiting length. 

He slid all the way into her with one thrust and held her tightly as he groaned into her ear. Their eyes met again in the vanity mirror.

The position was so different from their usual ones and he reached a part of her that was so pleasurable that it was close to painful. 

With a devilish smirk he started to pound into her at a punishing pace. She struggled to keep from screaming out loud as he pulled all tension from her body and filled her with pure bliss. 

Taking pity on her, he pulled out an emerald green handkerchief and stuffed into her mouth. She smiled grateful at him as he continued his thrusting until she was floating and soaring with pleasure sparking through her body. His name on her lips thankfully muffled by the fabric in her mouth as she convulsed. 

He growled softly, turned slack jawed and pushed roughly into her a last time before trembling above her, his fingertips digging into her hips and likely leaving marks. She didn't care.

She whimpered when he pulled out and quickly lifted her drawers to cover her, then let her skirts fall back down. A hand removed the handkerchief from her mouth that she had forgotten about. With shaking legs she took a seat at her vanity while he tucked himself away. 

He leaned down to kiss her cheek and she turned to catch his mouth with her own. He purred into her and she was sure that he would kneel down beside her and put his head in her lap like he often did.

But instead he took her hands and hauled her to her feet. She groaned as she fought to stand. Out of nowhere he pulled out a mask and a wig, quickly covering himself. 

"What are you doing?" She asked him perplexed as he straightened his attire. The mask was different, much like the one they used for Hades in the production, though this one was of much better quality. 

"Getting ready to go out, of course."

"Where?"

"To the after party." He put on an elegant fedora to complete the outfit. "It is expected of the manager after all."

" _You_ bought the opera?" She sincerely wasn't sure that it wasn't his strange sense of humour. It would be just like him, but still...

"Erik did. And I will attend the party dressed as Hades with Persephone on my arm. If that's alright?" He sounded a tad nervous to hear her answer as he held out his arm for her. She finally realised that he was completely serious. 

"We're really going out? In public?" He nodded. "Together?" Another nod. "Yes, of course!" She squealed and hugged him. She hadn't even contemplated that it could ever happen.

"Erik hopes it qualifies as an anniversary present."

"Oh, it does! And I sort of have one of you as well." She had not wanted to tell him yet, but she couldn't wait any longer, especially not after his surprise.

"Oh?" He asked nonchalantly as he took her arm and opened the door to the hall.

"You're going to be a father."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unsure of how to write this chapter, but I followed what felt right and it basically wrote itself. I'm not sure if it still feels right, so please, comment and tell me what you think!


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